


That Sweet Music You Make

by ambiguously



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:47:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26002894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/pseuds/ambiguously
Summary: The war is over, but Obi-Wan has more work to do.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19
Collections: Alternate Universe Exchange 2020





	That Sweet Music You Make

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chrysaora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrysaora/gifts).



The war is over. Not entirely over, Obi-Wan corrects himself, glancing over at the celebrating Rebels who mingle with Ewoks in firelight while incendiary celebrations burst in the air high above them. There are battles left before them, and the remnants of the Empire to sweep away. Over enough for him.

Obi-Wan feels very old tonight. Luke returned alive from the Death Star, the Emperor's second attempt at automating mass genocide with the push of a single button, and his life is cause for joy, even embittered joy as he told Obi-Wan of his grisly cargo. "You said the Jedi cremated their dead." His young eyes were haunted with the task ahead of him.

"It's my duty," Obi-Wan told him, and asked him to go tell the news to his sister and their friends. Luke stayed to help him pull Anakin's heavy body from the shuttle and into the clearing.

Luke believes Obi-Wan burned the corpse, believes Obi-Wan was capable of finishing the terrible act he began over twenty years ago. Obi-Wan loves that boy like his own. He won't disillusion him more.

Leia's face lights up as she sees Obi-Wan standing at the edge of the light. "Join us," she says, in the same half-request, half-command that fills most of her personal relationships. Most of the women he's known in his life have held this same firm strength, and he obeys. They're all Generals here, except dear Luke who is somehow still a Commander, but rank is something the Rebellion doesn't stand firm on any more than they do protocol, to the chagrin of poor C-3PO.

It's a nice evening. Obi-Wan accepts a bowl when he's handed it, choosing not to inquire about the nature of the roasted meat soaking deep into the doughy bread at the bottom. Another bowl goes around, and he takes a friendly sip, his eyes widening at the harsh flavor of the fresh alcohol. He's reminded of other meals, both in fine company amid glitter and fortune and in plain company around other campfires as Qui-Gon failed to learn the local language, or succeeded in making a new friend. Tonight is full of ghosts, and the most pressing rests in a clearing not far away, waiting for Obi-Wan's return.

He's shown his face enough for this party. The Rebels are more content when they can see one or more of their half dozen Jedi, treating them all with a superstitious fervor. Once the Jedi were great peacekeepers and warriors. Now they are good luck charms, and the luck rolled in today with interest.

"I believe I'm going to retire," he says to Luke, and presses a kind hand against his shoulder. Luke's face is weary. He'll find a place to sleep soon, and he thinks Obi-Wan is about to do the same. Obi-Wan pauses for one last moment, drinking in the boy's face, and the strong presence of his sister further away. He surrendered everything to protect them, and they have come through this war alive. His service, his pledge, is at last fully discharged.

It is time for other debts.

The clearing is cool this far away from the fires and the press of bodies. Obi-Wan has the makings of fire with him. He lights a single brand of a twig, using the dancing light to focus.

The old texts spoke of this. The Ordu Aspectu managed to unlock this secret, and paid dearly for the knowledge. The price of this working is steep. If he fails, he might undo the history of all that has happened since the day the twins were born, and not necessarily for the better. It is powerful, dangerous stuff. But if he does not try, the price will be his soul.

He gathers the Force around himself, pulling in strands of power from the trees, the grasses, the small animals that hunt and buzz in the bushes, and the sentients who celebrate unawares up in the trees. Not stealing, not taking, merely using. He takes these strands, and recalling the sequences spelled out in the ancient book, he crafts the shapes inside his mind: circles within circles, spirals for his soul to enter as his body rests beside the corpse in the clearing.

Within the second spiral, he discovers he is not alone. The books spoke of this too: the canine guardians of the underworld. There are three of the shaggy, fleet-footed beings, who merge in and out of one another. Now there is one, with three doggy faces panting, leading him onward.

Darkness fills the third circle. Obi-Wan is fully a spirit now, and waves his arm, filling the void with light, pure Force. A figure appears.

"Hello, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon stares at him placidly. "I wondered when you'd join me here."

The books were quite clear about this part. Still, it pains him to say, "You aren't real, old friend."

"Am I not? Should I tell you about all our good times together? I seem to recall an amusing time in particular."

The vision that is not his old Master follows him with three wolves. Other faces pass him by, calling out: Bail, Satine, Maul, Siri, more. He ignores them, sweeping them into his wake as a ghostly train spreading out behind his steps through another circle, a deeper spiral. He counts ten, and reaches a boy huddled in the center.

Obi-Wan kneels down. "Hello there." There's no response. Obi-wan clears what passes for his throat in this realm, and he sings the words the Ordu recorded in the best approximation of a tune he can find. He's never had the best singing voice, but the terms were clear. Only song will suffice.

Anakin opens his eyes. He is younger than when they met, but the knowledge in his gaze is old and filled with his sins. "What do you want? Let me rest."

"I'm afraid you haven't earned that yet. There's much to do." He holds out his hand. Only the very recent dead can take it. The other shadows could never, but if he'd given in to their temptation, he would be trapped here with them for all time, neither alive nor dead.

If he's wrong about Anakin, he's doomed himself.

"I'm tired."

"I know you are. And I know you are lost. But there is much work to be done, and it is your price to pay to perform it."

"I remember everything. Everything I did. It's too much. I can't. Let me rest."

"It is too much, which is why you must make the attempt. You don't get out of your duty by dying. I taught you better than that." He keeps the hand at the ready.

Sulking, Anakin takes it.

Clasped together, they walk out through the tenth ring, then the ninth. Anakin is already older than he was when Obi-Wan took him on as a Padawan. More rings, and now the voices of Anakin's ghost call to him.

"You must close your ears to them," Obi-Wan tells him, even as Anakin's face is turned in sorrow to see his mother reaching out to him. "Come."

He isn't going to do it. Anakin's private demons are too strong. Obi-Wan has come here for nothing.

Anakin squeezes his hand. They pass together through a spiral, and another, the spinning lines of the Force growing in diameter around them in distances that can only be measured in the heartbeat of the universe. Beside them, the three wolves are one again, three faces wearing three expressions: a fierce growl, a panting sigh, and a happy doggy grin.

The last spiral is before them now. The most pressing ghost of all stands in the way of their new life. Obi-Wan tenses. Anakin, who has grown beside him from a child to a youth into a handsome man in his forties, holds onto Obi-Wan's hand, closes his eyes, and passes by without a word.

They are free. Obi-Wan looks back, and thinks later he should not look back, looking back is the curse of them all. But he is holding Anakin's hand, and all he sees are the wolves, who briefly turn into three strangers: a young woman, a young man of her same age, and an old man between them. With a whisper of Force, they are gone.

Anakin stands beside him, alive and whole. The sad, dark huddled figure Luke brought here has already crumbled away into dust, as though a thousand years passed since Obi-Wan left this place. In the distance, Obi-Wan hears the party still going strong. They won't be joining in the festivities. By dawn, they will be parsecs away from here in the shuttle Luke so thoughtfully left them, starting their new life together making up for the sins of their old ones. He takes a moment here and now, letting his own tired eyes take in Anakin's regained form.

"Thanks," Anakin says, and his eyes are clear of all madness, and his voice is clear of sorrows. He carries his past under his gaze, soaked in regrets as long as the twins have been alive, but his anger has fallen away like a shed skin, leaving him a new man.

"Any time," Obi-Wan replies, and embraces him.


End file.
